


reverse faults

by CHEETOBREATH



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Flashbacks, Graphic Description, Graphic Violence, I'm Sorry, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Reader is in denial, Symbiote - Freeform, abusive behaviour, actually screw the hints, exploration of abusive relationships, genuinely this is dark, heads are being chomped off, hints of abusive reader, jumps between timelines, lots of experimentation, original character symbiote - Freeform, power struggles, reader is behaving not nice, reader is in for a tough ride because they may or may not be part of an unhealthy dynamic, somewhat unrelated work, tags to be added as it goes on, this is the most self indulgent thing i've written yet, though it is an original character instead of a known one from the comics, unhealthy dynamic, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHEETOBREATH/pseuds/CHEETOBREATH
Summary: a symbiote has to bond in order to survive. it matters little what their own goals are; sometimes, they might be able to influence.other times, they are the ones being influenced.a host can become parasitic as well.---a self indulgent exploration of the meaning of 'symbiote.'





	1. laryngospasm

**Author's Note:**

> for L.
> 
> thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> \---  
> this might be(come) a confusing mess.  
> self-therapy through fiction,  
> in hope of healing.
> 
> maybe it works better than expected.

 

 

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so full.

The way their being melts around you, fusion on metaphysical level, languid waves, alive … you are sure that you have never felt so full, so awake, so _complete_.

**_Wake up._ **

The waves crash over your head, pull you under into a maze unexpected, one you fail to recognize as the mirrors of your own mind. Tendrils wrap around your flailing limbs, hold you tight, tighter, secure. They feel like comfort, warmth in this neverness.

**_Wake up. Now._ **

And the _guilt_ – it moves with the speed and strength of a mountain boulder, hammering into your chest with the desperate force of falling stone. You gasp; your lungs collapsed, it feels as if your entire upper body is engulfed and filled up to the brim with living liquid, spilling over. Your head is a pounding mass of confused thoughts, moving faster, spinning spinning spinning spinning—

 

**-please.**

 

A mouthful of air, sweat running down your neck, you shoot up.

Panic rocks through your system, an ache down from the base of your skull to the very end of your spine, small shocks reminiscent of lightning. Except that there is neither storm nor electricity in your closest vicinity. It’s just the pitter patter of heavy rain against glass, filling the apartment. You take a couple of deep breaths to steady yourself, dragging a hand down the side of your face. _Fuck._ Just as your heart rate finally slows a bit, you hear thunder rumbling in the distance, a dark grumble in the clouds. Maybe you spoke too soon.

_No storm my ass…_

Your chest is still heaving, the usual exhaustion you feel after waking up gone completely. It fills you with a weird familiar wariness, one you neither know nor can place in any of your recent – or older – memories. It makes no sense in the context of your dream.

“What the fuck is wrong with us?”

It sounds less like a question and more like a prompt, a statement not meant to accuse but ringing true nonetheless.

**_We haven’t accustomed yet._ **

They are quiet, softer, but not in the way their usual warmth bubbles at the back of your mind; instead, there is a wariness there, too, a distance instead of tightness. You recognize now that it is the same feeling you can’t identify. It is not yours. For the first time in a while, they are openly concealing.

**_There is no reason to._ **

_Wary._

“You’re being different.” You say it with quietness too, making room for their carefulness. Something recoils in the back of your mind, an alarm ringing off that is not yours either and makes your limbs shiver for a moment. Something akin to … guarded _panic_ fills your head, and now you are genuinely concerned. You want to know. You want to understand. Why will they not tell you?

**_Can’t. Can’t. Can’t-_ **

There is a _pull_ again, drawing you back by the ankle, so sudden you let out a yelp. The surprise translates into an automatic response, muscles responding, posture even in lying ready to strike, defend, defeat. It is no use. It is no use-

In the same second, the skies light up, so bright your sight loses focus for a moment; the edges of the room start to disperse, thunder now so loud it fills the air with electricity. You can feel goosebumps forming down your neck as they pull around you, seeping out of your skin and _around_ you instead, surrounding inside and out, feeling almost complete again; but something is different, something is wrong, and you can feel it in the hesitation that lingers in their formless mass as you finally recognize the change. They close around you, but they do it warily. Conflict bubbles up from their corner of your mind, and before you can ask more, push for an answer, the air around constricts and they are ripped _out_ of you, away, splattering apart into the air, still floating.

You only understand that you are screaming when your lungs beg for breath themselves. A feeling so foreign it clouds the pain for a heartbeat, and with it the sense of _betrayal_ that fills you out.

Both of you are still in the air, you realize, and nothing makes sense as the room fades away, everything fades, you-

 

 

 

 

 

-open up your eyes.

It takes a moment to take the surroundings in, to truly wake up and become aware.

Cold air kissing your shoulders. Light of an electronic clock illuminating the bumps in your blanket, the edges of the cupboard. Your own breath, calm and steady against your racing heart.

_Dreamed of them again._

It fills you with a sense of dread, painful longing, regret and helpless anger; pinpointing down what it means is too hard for a shattered mind, and the tiredness compels you to give up before trying. You’ve broken your head many a time about this, them, you, something that used to be _us_.

_I miss the way they would say it. ‘us.’_

For a moment, your pulse hurts.

 

It’s been a while since you have been confronted with the emptiness in your chest, the void that once was filled. It remains as it is.

After they left, everything felt void.

_It must’ve felt void to them as well._

 

 

 What a weird way to wake up.

 


	2. xanthophyll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> denial can become protection of one's own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one starts getting dark.
> 
> if dark themes upset you,  
> please take good care.
> 
> reader-perspective is a questionable one in this story.  
> morally questionable chapter.
> 
> events take place earlier in the timeline.

It starts harmless, you tell yourself, and so it is no big issue when you find yourself rationalizing and excusing the eating of a criminal or two.

Your Other is quiet in the back of your head, as if they are desperately trying to keep their thoughts low, avoiding speaking at all.

“They were robbing another civilian, and they would’ve killed them; the two shot at us too, after all.”

It sounds reasonable enough in your head. _The eating of the rude_ , you remember an old friend referencing; and in this moment, you find yourself agreeing.

_If they would’ve inflicted harm, haven’t we saved more people than would’ve died had we left them alive?_

**_Could’ve immobilized them. Could’ve turned them in._ **

The outburst is sudden. Almost sharp. You feel a weird spike of … annoyance at your Other’s resistance; you expected them to engulf you with their bubbly warm, to not only fully support but also encourage your handling of the situation- it went so _effortless_ in that moment, why are they hesitating now, after already lending their strength to the task?

You can feel their hurt at your thoughts, and you let out a slow sight. _Investigation would make it more difficult._ Instead of intruding into their reasoning, you let your head flood with green, memories of leaves swaying with the wind, your side flooding theirs with comforting caresses.

_I’m sorry, that was harsh. I just think… of course, taking a life is a large step. But we have to think of the lives that these people would’ve destroyed. They would’ve hurt and possibly killed more innocents, and we would’ve been at fault for not stopping them when we had the chance – do you understand, Greensleeves?_

You have been calling them by this nickname for a while now, endearing, and the green-golden hues that glimmer in their metallic form agree with you.

Now, you think their nickname with a quiet urgency, trying to make them _understand_. You are here to help, to save, to rescue and protect. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary.

Hesitance, then warmth creeps through your body as they slowly relax. Something touches your fingers softly, sliding between them, holding your hand tightly but delicate. There is understanding in their thoughts, an embrace from within. It seems like the argument has settled before it could begin, and peace hums through your head again; all is as it should be.

You close your eyes and smile.

 

 

 

They call you Cadmium, sometimes whispered ‘verdure’, and in all honesty, you cannot find any argument against either.

(Well, maybe that the second one implies that you leave behind lots of pretty vegetation and sunshine. As a matter of fact, you _try_ not to destroy too many things, but sometimes, it just … happens.)

You’re not entirely certain which is your favorite, but you know that your Other prefers the second; you like the metallic sound of the first more, and given that it is indeed more popular, you settle for it instead.

_Cadmium, shape-shifting protector._

Your Other and you have taken to patrolling the streets more regularly now, eyes open for danger and, but you deny yourself to admit to it properly, _rude_ people. You've just started this rainy night's shift, the city's lights reflected in the large puddles deep below, cars rushing through the water. The sounds are clear in your ears, yet easy to ignore.

It brings a certain pride and pleasure to know that you’ve saved lives, _are_ saving lives; that you’re the reason someone continues to survive, protected by hands that could destroy so easily. Your vow to stay in the shadows and help – you’ve never been one much for the spotlight – proves easier at nighttime, not only because bad things tend to happen more often in the dark, but also because moving becomes easier.

You know that from previous experience of stalking the streets, back before you became who you are now; you used to wander the city, often aimless. Now, you have a goal.

You gingerly ignore the fact that the media has started referring to you as ‘monster’ a bit more often than they have been thanking you for saving civilians.

Becoming a hero is unexpected, but not unwelcome; actually, it finally gives this bleakness a sense, a direction, and you embraced the opportunity, you think to yourself as you launch off the side of your usual patrol-start-building.

Albeit lost in thought, it is easy to grab the wet ledge of the housefront on the other side, twenty foot down. Your Other’s oily-metallic glimmering form protects you from the rain, and you slip onto the rooftop silently, almost undetectable in this weather.

You chose this night not without reason. And regardless of all preparation, you feel nervousness crawl up your spine, into your system.

**_We don’t have to do this._ **

Almost a plea. It catches you off guard, and you even do a reflexive 180 turn as if you expect them to stand right there, their form as hunched as their voice implies. Small stones skip over the rooftop edge. They sound worried, and you understand as you dip a fingertip into the turmoil that is their thoughts, that they are afraid for _you_.

“Why are you- there’s no reason to be afraid,” you mumble softly into their form.

Something shifts within, turns, wraps itself tightly inside yourself, your Other trying to articulate. Something occurs to you. It steals your breath for a moment.

“You aren’t afraid of … of _me_ , are you, Greensleeves?”

Shock mumbles through your thoughts, and their answer is a flicker of despair they helplessly tried to keep low. You growl, irritated and hurt, fists clenched.

_There’s nothing to be afraid of! We just have to do this, get it over with, and once we get this guy, he won’t ever harm Clarice and her friend again. We can protect them from him._ You try to explain, the emotion choking your voice. You’re too upset to be able to calm your voice, and you really don’t want to scream at them; they have a right to critique you, but right now is really not the time. You thought they’d agreed to this; they didn’t bring it up sooner, and you struggle to keep up with the speed they shoot their desperate thoughts at you.

Panic overcomes their side of the headspace, and before you can say anything more, there’s a click from the back of the rooftop, and the door to the side of the staircase opens.

Within a second, you’re on the man, ignoring the shrill ringing in your ears; you drown out your Other’s thoughts, focused completely on the bulky man that even in shock reacts fast enough to draw his pistol. _Everything is a rush_. Triumph fills you as the bullets are reverted back, your motion balanced out by your living, breathing suit; a yell of pain accompanies the symphony in your head, and without struggle you let the red, familiar haze overcome you.

Your mind becomes a grinning, wide-mouthed beast, stretching its teeth, and as your real maw opens and devours his head, feasting on his body, you feel the thrill of a successful hunt blaze through your blood.

Your Other’s screams are silenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the possible confusion due to being thrown into an established situation.  
> explanations will hopefully follow.
> 
> the symbiote could be refered to as 'cadmium' as well, though it is neither their original nor their chosen name.

**Author's Note:**

> through a couple of different things, i stumbled over the original material concerning symbiotes and other things.  
> although i know only very little about the original comics, the concept intrigues me to no end, and i hope to learn more  
> about it, and explore it further.  
> in genuine, i hope to translate some experiences into the writing itself, and pray that it will flow.  
> thank you for reading this far.


End file.
